


Jeremy Has a Bad Night

by Lafayetti



Series: boyf riends trash [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boyf friends, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Harm, graphic depictions of self harm, jeremy is doing bad, self hate, sorry - Freeform, the author is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 05:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafayetti/pseuds/Lafayetti
Summary: Jeremy wasn't crying, but his breathing was shaky and his head was hot and his hands were unsteady. He felt manic and beaten and angry and weak, and he had an itch under the skin of his hips and thighs that would not go away no matter how hard he scratched at it with his bitten fingernails.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This has two parts because I started writing it and then got tired so I'll post the second (fluffier) part tomorrow. Please heed the tags, and pleasepleaseplease don't read it if you're triggered by self harm. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Jeremy wasn't crying, but his breathing was shaky and his head was hot and his hands were unsteady. He felt manic and beaten and angry and weak, and he had an itch under the skin of his hips and thighs that would not go away no matter how hard he scratched at it with his bitten fingernails.  
He was sat on the edge of his bed in nothing but a pair of blue boxer briefs and his binder. His hands fiddled dejectedly with an open safety pin, and he let out a sardonic laugh at that, because, _Wow, Jeremy, you’re so weak that you can’t even hurt yourself correctly. Are you sure you’re a boy, Jeremy? Or should I say Jen-_  
Jeremy cut off the voice talking at him by sharply tugging at his already unkempt hair.  
“No,” he muttered angrily, “No, no, no. Go away.” He used a safety pin because he was scared of razors, scared of the blood, and safety pins gave him the pain that would ground him without that part.  
As the heat in his head grew into a buzzing feeling and the itch in his thighs and hips started to turn to a burn, he couldn’t take it anymore. Jeremy let out a dry sob and yanked his underwear down enough to expose his prominent hip bones and sliced into the left one. The safety pin dragged across old wounds and left a thin red line in its wake, some blood welling up without the wound really bleeding. Sighing shakily, Jeremy repeated the action over and over, slice, slice, slice, resulting in crisscrossing cuts spanning the left side of his hip. Therapeutic.  
“What do you even have to be upset about? Nothing’s wrong with your life, other than the fact that you’re a fucking wreck for no reason,” Jeremy scoffed at himself.  
_That’s right, Jeremy. You’re wasting everyone’s time and energy by being here. Everything about you is terrible, including the fact that you’re a huge fucking crybaby._ Jeremy nodded along with the voice of the squip numbly and pushed up the leg of his underwear to access his thigh. Slice, slice, slice. His hand sped up, slice, slice, slicing away at the itch that was still persistent. His own thoughts and the Squip’s voice blended together into a wave of negativity and self hate that pushed him onwards, continuing to slice, slice, slice, slice, _sliceslicesli-_   
“Jeremy? What are you doing?” His head snapped up in a panic and his eyes met the source of the voice-  
“M-Michael?” Who was standing in his bedroom doorway, looking shaken and grim. Jeremy’s eyes widened and he scrambled to fix his boxer briefs, to cover what he knew had already been seen. “W-what are you doing here?” he croaked.  
Michael’s eyes were sad and his eyebrows were furrowed as he slowly walked over to where Jeremy was on the bed. He reached down to gently uncurl Jeremy’s fist from where it was now clenched around the safety pin, removing it from Jeremy’s grasp. His voice was impossibly soft as he brushed the hair off of Jeremy’s forehead, crouching down to look into his eyes.  
“Miah? What happened?”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 and the comfort part of the hurt/comfort tag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys welcome back to this shitshow once again heed the tags and have a good time reading my trash writing

“Miah? What happened?”  
And Jeremy broke down, tears flowing as he collapsed forward onto Michael, head awkwardly pressed into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, arms coming to wrap around Michael's chest. “M-Micah, I’m so- I’m so sorry,” he sobbed into the other boy’s shirt.  
Jeremy briefly registered that Michael was pulling him off the bed and onto his lap, wrapping his strong arms around Jeremy tightly and whispering, “Shh, Miah, I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Jeremy felt his head being gently tilted up to look at Michael.  
“Jere-bear, we can’t have you crying like this with your binder still on; it’s not safe,” Michael said with a frown. Jeremy nodded slightly and sniffled. Michael’s heart broke at the sight of Jeremy’s big blue eyes overflowing with tears, his nose red and his lips trembling.  
“Here, I’ll help you get changed.” Michael delicately slid Jeremy off of his lap and swiftly made his way over to his dresser, grabbing a large, soft t-shirt that he offhandedly recognized as missing from his own wardrobe. “Turn around, Jere-bear, we gotta take your binder off,” Michael commanded softly. Jeremy obeyed and unstrapped his binder, curling in on himself and shivering lightly. “Arms up.” Michael swiftly pulled the large tshirt over the skinny boy’s torso and turned him back around to face Michael. “There,” Michael said with a smile. “That’s better.”  
Apparently having been holding back in order to get changed, Jeremy let loose once more, dissolving into a shaky, sobbing mess. He folded in on himself, burying his face in his hands and then bringing them up to his hair to tug.  
Michael hurried over to his friend and gently removed his hands from his hair. “Miah, no, you’ll hurt yourself,” he said, and then immediately winced because, well. He pulled Jeremy back into a hug, continuing to hold him as though his life depended on it until the smaller boy’s sobs faded into soft sniffles and he pulled back to rub at his eyes. Michael brought a hand up to wipe the remaining tears off of Jeremy’s face with a sad smile.  
“Jer, sweetie,” he said hesitantly, glancing down to Jeremy’s thighs with a frown, “Uh… why don’t we get you cleaned up?” Jeremy nodded ashamedly and avoided Michael’s gaze. With a gentle sigh Michael stood up with Jeremy still in his grip and carried him through the hallway to the bathroom, setting Jeremy down on the counter before ducking down to rummage through the cabinet. Jeremy’s hands fidgeted absently with the elastic waist of his boxer briefs and his eyes glazed over as he stared blankly at a spot on the wall across from him.  
Michael popped back up with cotton balls, bandaids, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a determined expression on his face. He set about cleaning up the visible wounds on Jeremy’s thighs, placing bandaids over a few of the deeper ones. He tugged down the waist of Jeremy’s underwear gently and gasped at the already existing crisscrossing scars on the other boy’s hips.  
“Jeremy,” he said, bracing himself for the question that needed to be asked, “How… how long has this been happening?”  
Jeremy flinched and felt his chest tighten. “I… it’s been on and off. Since eighth grade,” he stated. Upon seeing Michael’s eyes widen with disbelief, he rushed to add, “But it’s really not that bad and I only do it every once in a while and it doesn’t really ma-”  
“Jeremy,” Michael firmly cut him off. “It does matter, because you’re my best friend, and you’re wonderful and amazing, and you don’t deserve to be hurting like this, okay?” Jeremy shrugged, and Michael sighed, continuing to go about cleaning Jeremy’s hips.  
“‘M sorry, Mikey,” Jeremy muttered, so softly Michael almost didn’t hear him. He threw the used cotton balls and bandaid wrappers in the trashcan before answering.  
“Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about, Jer,” he said lightly.  
“You’re mad at me,” Jeremy mumbled in response. “You’re mad at me because I’m stupid and terrible and awful and I make you wanna die,” he said dejectedly. Michael’s hands came up to cradle Jeremy’s face.  
“Miah, no! I’m not mad at you! You’re smart and awesome and lovely and you make me want to live, Jeremy. I’m mad… but I’m not mad at you, I’m angry that you’ve been going through this alone for so long. I’m upset that you’re hurting, Miah, because I want to see you happy,” Michael rushed out. A few stray tears leaked out of Jeremy’s eyes at Michael’s reassurances.  
“Really?” Jeremy asked, looking up at Michael with wide eyes. Michael nodded and pulled Jeremy into another hug.  
“Call me next time, Jer. I’m here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments/kudos are appreciated! also, check me out on tumblr @/toadhatepage

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/comments are appreciated! Check me out on tumblr/ send prompts --> https://toadhatepage.tumblr.com


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